Fall of the Terran Empire - Traci Ganner series book 1

Fall of the Terran Empire - Ch 1

“So, where do you think they’ll hit next, skipper?” Lt. Stafford Swanson sat across the desk from Commander Traci Ganner in the commander’s day cabin, sipping a piping hot cup of coffee. It was just after ship’s dawn, and Swanson had brought in the day’s duty roster for a quick meeting with his CO. Ganner had called up the local star systems on the desk display and was twittering a stylus between her fingers, thinking.

She closed her eyes for just a moment. Her head leaned against the chair back and she could feel the braids of her hair touching the cloth of the chair. That was always the dilemma for women in the navy--wear your hair so short you look like the men, or wear it longer and have to do something with it. Traci Ganner was a practical woman, but she refused to wear her hair so short she couldn’t be herself after she got off the clock.

“I’m not entirely certain, Stafford,” she said, opening her eyes. “They’ve already hit two merchant ships and a local yacht, here and here,” she said, pointing to the display. “So they must think they have a pretty good getaway plan. Or maybe they think the Empire is just going to overlook pirate activity in this quadrant. With all the merchant ships transporting water and ore here in Antares, I, for one, hope they show up in our sector.”

“I guess we’ll just have to show them the error of their ways,” Swanson replied. “If they show themselves in this backwater star system, we’ll catch them.”

Lt. Swanson was also a practical man. He fidgeted with a thread that had caught his eye on his tunic jacket. It was a small defect on his otherwise spotless uniform. The lieutenant had always prided himself on his spotless appearance. His black trousers carried a single hunter green stripe down the length of each leg, which trimmed his black and green tunic nicely. His boots came up almost to his knees and had soft tops to keep from wrinkling his pants. His vest was riveted along its edges, setting off the waist-length military tunic made from sturdy broadcloth.  There was an epaulette on each shoulder bearing an escutcheon device to match the one over his breast pocket, but his lieutenant's rank was displayed in white herringbone tape on his cuffs. Alas, that was where a thread had decided to fray. He picked at it absently.

The navy had adopted the more martial uniforms many generations ago. They imbued their wearers with a sense of power, the kind of power that could save lives--or take them. It was that sense of power that every member of the Imperial Navy understood. It gave them the  focus to take their tasks very seriously, so that they understood the amount of power that came with a starship.

“Yes, and Captain McKenzie is in the next star system, just a few hours away in the event they attack there,” the commander said, laying down her stylus. She took a moment to scan the current merchant traffic roster once more and then leaned back in her chair. “Go check with Chief Toler and make sure we keep our emissions to a minimum. We’ve got to keep the impulse drive in standby in case we get the call, of course, but otherwise--” she continued, but was cut off by the vicious howl of the general quarters alarm.

Ganner sat straight up in her chair and hit the comm switch on the desk as Swanson changed the display to show the master tactical plot. “Talk to me, Simon,” Ganner said urgently as she took in the data scrolling onto her plot.

“Ma’am, we have a priority-one signal from the Harpy, a merchant vessel outbound for Deneb III. It states it is under attack and requests assistance,” said the ensign.

“We’re on our way. Have Toler light up the engines and get us underway, best possible speed.”

“Aye, aye, ma’am,” replied the ensign as he sent the necessary instructions. Swanson was already out the cabin door at a run.

* * *

Commander Ganner slid into the command chair and reviewed the master plot for any changes. She studied the locations and relative velocities of the fat merchant ship, Harpy, and her own light cruiser, Corsair, before speaking to the helmsman.